


A Broken Ballad

by Starkidlabs



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Bards, Hurt, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, basically what everyones favourite bard is up to whilst everyone is dying in Cintra, no comfort this time sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22079677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkidlabs/pseuds/Starkidlabs
Summary: As the Nilfgaardian invasion rages over the horizon a lonely bard sits in a tavern unable to write a ballad. Still broken by the last words Geralt spoke to him Jaskier must come to a hard but honest conclusion about himself in order to be able to find lyrics to his latest song.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 193





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quick note for continuity purposes I imagine episode 6 to be set somewhere between 3 months - a year before episode 7. 
> 
> Written whilst listening to the 10 hour version of Her Sweet Kiss on youtube.

The damp and musty smell of the old inn consumed any sense of appetite Jaskier had for the meagre portion of stew in front of him. It wasn’t exactly like he had been hungry to begin with; he hadn’t really been hungry these past few days, months. He simply ate what he needed to survive and that was that. There was an absence of pleasure that used to come from food, an absence of pleasure for most things in his life. He pushed the bowl to the side and drank from his yard of ale, small smooth sips to dull the pain ever so slightly. Pulling out a small leather-bound book of parchment, he made an attempt to jot something down, prose, a lyric but nothing came to mind. Nothing ever really came to mind anymore, not since the dragon incident. There were single lines of poetry about his surroundings and about the slightly interesting people he had become acquainted with but not much else. The spark of creativity that had seemed to flourish when he wrote of tales of gallantry and bravery of a certain Witcher had suddenly faded. He couldn’t even produce the sub-par ballads he wrote before he had met Geralt. A bard who can no longer write ballads. He might as well apply for the shit shovelling job in the next village over. 

As Jaskier lamented to himself and finished his ale he started to realise why Geralt preferred solitude. Less people to care about and less people to break your heart. Although it wasn’t as if his heart was broken or anything. He had never cared for someone enough to let that happen. He let out a deep sigh, staring into the remanence of his ale, watching it swirl, some form of longing surfaced, perhaps longing for another drink or something else completely. He decided to choke down his emotions like he’d been doing every night where he found himself alone. Which was most nights. Sure, there were women who he could pay to spend a night with but after a while it became meaningless, far better to pay to drown your sorrows than to pay someone else and have them remain. Lost in his daydream Jaskier did not notice a wide eyed red headed girl appear at his table. 

“You’re the bard, aren’t you?” she said with a note of glee. Jaskier almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound of chatter directed towards him. He noticed the small child standing in front of him, her eyes twinkling with admiration. 

“I’m a bard.” He said in a slightly dismissive tone, hoping that maybe he’d be left alone. A few months ago, if anyone had noticed him or sung his praise, he would have bathed in it. That was why he wrote himself into so many of his songs after all. But now he would do anything to not be reminded of him. 

“The one who writes the songs about the Witcher.” Her toothy grin shone with excitement. “can you play me one?” Jaskier twisted his lip and scrunched up his nose. He wasn’t exactly in the singing mood; he hadn’t really been for a long time. He was also certain this girl had no coin to pay him, yet something clicked in his brain, reminded him that he was meant to be a people person. He was determined to not let himself become isolated from society. Nor did he want to let his last flicker of passion for music die, perhaps seeing the joy in this girl’s face would reignite it. He carefully lifted his loot from the broken stall next to him, cautiously dusting it with the tips of his fingers. He began to strum 

“Oh, Fishmongers daughter…” but before he could utter the next line the girl interrupted. 

“I’ve heard that one before….” She muttered. “and its not very good.” And this is why he never talked to children or asked them to critique his work, they were worse than Geralt at saying what they actually think. But to be fair to her she was right, this was one of his worse songs, the type that he used to play to get a crowd clapping not one to draw them in. The one he fondly remembered getting covered in bread for singing. But, unfortunately, it was one of the few he could play now, the word Witcher always left a bitter taste on his lips. Perhaps a biological trigger warning to lead him of a certain path of memories so he didn’t go insane. He had lost many friends in the past due to his generally what many consider annoying nature, but none hurt as much as this. None left him as paralyzed with sadness and fear as losing Geralt did.

“Don’t you have any new songs bard?” she chirped, drawing Jaskier’s thoughts to the present. 

“There’s the dragon song…” he muttered absently his eyes darting around the inn trying to find the parents of the very annoying child in front of him, but alas other than a few burly dwarves there was no one else around. 

“I’ve heard that one too.” Jaskier double took, his mouth gaping slightly.  
“How is that I’ve only performed it once” he coughed uncomfortably “to a very poor reception I must admit.” 

“Yeah you played it here, there are still stains on the walls from all the food thrown at you.” She pointed to an off-white wall excitedly, a slight patter of expressive ‘art’ residing upon it.

“Ahh, that explains it.” he bit his lip out of embarrassment. Then tried to recollect the paths he had taken over the past months, but nothing came to fruition, everything blurred into one, it was unlike him to return to an inn where he had such negative feedback. He barely knew his own mind anymore, that was certain, countless sleepless nights and dull pleasures to drown out a need for something more had destroyed his wit, charm and his mind as a whole. 

“Do you not have a new song I could sample o’ bard.” How to tell a child that you had lost all sense of words and wonder that you can no longer pick up a quill to write one. Her eyes pleaded with his and maybe it was because he wanted to impress someone again that he found himself determined to perform one to her. Yet he had nothing, not a single word to sing or a note to harmonise. Jaskier pondered for a moment, trying to find a solution. 

“of course, but I must receive my payment first.” The smile which had been fixed to the young girls face since Jaskier first noticed her suddenly fell.

“But I don’t have any coin sir.” She said weakly. She curled one of her long ginger locks around her finger, a sense of comfort from the instant sadness that she felt. Jaskier couldn’t help but smile knowing that he had mislead her ever so slightly. 

“My payment is simply a hand-picked bouquet of flowers to give to my love in a distant land.” He tried to add a certain level of charm to his lie, keep an air of mystery and adventure that his ballads had become known for, to keep the bewildered child looking upon him as some form of hero she believed him to be. She smiled back at him graciously. 

“I shall bring them to you first thing tomorrow.” With a spring in her step the girl disappeared around the corner with a wide smile and a joyous heart.  
Fuck. Jaskier thought to himself almost instantly. He now had to actually write the damned thing and he had only one night to do so. 

“Giant spiders. Everyone loves giant spider’s, right? Girls of about 12 find giant spider’s fun. Right...Right?” Jaskier paced up and down muttering to himself. “no… no…” a sudden change in tone as Jaskier surprised himself. “People hate spiders. Everyone hates spiders… right?” he paused in the middle of the room, confused and dazed as if he had forgotten where he was. “right?” he shook his head and snapped himself out of his writer’s block induced headache. He decided to sit down and stare deeply at his parchment to see if it would bring back the notion of good writing or send him back into the downward spiral of nothingness. He had no inspiration, no story worth telling. The only story worth telling were the ones that featured a bold, brash hero with stunning eyes and a hidden layer of warmth. The only stories that sparked any sense of joy or excitement within him were the ones that featured Geralt. 

So, he sat and thought, although it pained him so, of the adventures Geralt may have without him. He had heard whispers that the white wolf was in Cintra which instantly made his heart skip a beat and grow sick with worry. Geralt was strong and seemed indestructible but an invading army who had destroyed a kingdom seemed like it could be that which truly tested Geralt’s indestructible nature. There was a flurry of instant thoughts of Geralt being tortured by Nilfgaardian’s, dead on a battlefield, ruthlessly slaughtered, it made his stomach churn and head grow weary. He decided he didn’t want to think of what may have happened to Geralt since he had been away. He didn’t want to imagine him being gone forever, the last words he’d ever hear Geralt say was of how much he had destroyed his life. He didn’t want him to die hating him, he didn’t want to think they wouldn’t meet again, he couldn’t think it without feeling broken. He forced himself not to imagine where Geralt was and if he was ok. If only he had been less annoying, more heroic and trustworthy perhaps Geralt wouldn’t have left. Perhaps he could still hear his stories of wonder and heroics, be inspired for the ballads that have been left unfinished for so long. And that’s when it hit him, a sudden flood of realisation as to why he could no longer form the poetry he once did. He lost his muse. Geralt was his muse. 

Jaskier felt a lump form in his throat one he couldn’t swallow, his breathing found a pace of its own one he had no control over. His eyes became misty as he stared at nothing in particular searching for a reason to distract himself from his current feelings but nothing appeared. Jaskier began to sob. He didn’t understand exactly what he was feeling or how he was feeling it. A deep soul-destroying sadness had fallen upon him as he felt his warm tears free themselves and trickle down his cheek. Things finally began to make sense, yet he was more lost than ever. He had muses before and lost them all the same, they failed to inspire him or failed to want him. But he had still felt a deep desire and passion for everyone of them, the same he felt now for Geralt. Perhaps this was an even deeper and more undeniable than before, because he had never felt this way over losing anyone. He stopped crying and looked wistfully out of the window trying to control his inner feelings of turmoil and pain. Several expressions danced upon his face as he carefully sifted through every emotion, he had of that Witcher. He knew there was a sense of sexual desire for him, one he had initially felt unsure of, but he eventually grew comfortable with. There had been a sense of sexual desire for some men before, but he had only ever acted upon it a few times, he thought it was just a natural part of life which he felt no point reflecting upon. But alas this time the desire wasn’t simply sexual there was an inner longing to feel Geralt on his lips. A desire to be by his side whenever physically possible and a wanting so strong that he had weakened so greatly when Geralt had ostracised him. He felt like a part of himself had died and until now he didn’t realise it was because he had lost his muse, his inspiration. 

“If only that witch hadn’t charmed Geralt, put him under her spell. Perhaps, I may never have been able to confess my feelings for Geralt but he’d still be by my side. One sweet kiss from Yennefer and he was gone forever.” He felt his own emotions bubble inside him once again as he chocked back his tears. “she destroyed everything I had.” A sniff and a break of silence in Jaskier’s thoughts. “Of course, she’s beautiful but deadly all the same. She doesn’t even care about the relationships she broke on the way.” Perhaps it wasn’t completely Yennefer’s fault, but he didn’t have enough time to consider it. A spark of something came, a note than another and a line that produced a beautiful melody in his head. The reason why he was uninspired and the reason for all this heartache and anguish. 

“The story is this, annoying 12 year old, she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss.” That kiss will take everything from you, break your heart and make it so a bard can no longer write a ballad. But perhaps he should keep the personal details to himself. Suddenly a memory, a slither of a lyric or two, maybe three that he had written many moons ago. He had forgotten them or maybe wished them out of his head, the song he was writing before the week he regarded as one of the worst of his life. But as he remembered the lyrics seemed to fit his loss. They weren’t of love as he first intended but of heartache and anguish, the perils of love took hold of his creativity and altered his lyrics to fit with his narrative. ‘garroter, jury and judge.’ A sentence with not a single notion of beauty about it, one in which the lover will suffer the rest of his days under because love is unfair and demands far too much, offering little in return. Perhaps somewhere deep in his mind he had always intended these lyrics to be used this way, to express anguish not passion. The pen took control as he began to write and write. A feeling of warmth and freedom flushed over him as he felt a sense of joy in his heart that he could write once again.


	2. Part 2

‘Here’s your bouquet.” The girl returned to his table at around 10 am whilst he was eating a sad looking boiled egg. He was suffering from fatigue through staying up all night writing and perfecting his ballad, an attempt to be cheered once again. The crumpled pile of dandelions the girl had brought mocked him, taunting him about the payment he may have received if anyone else had asked such a task of him. 

“Thank you I’m sure my love will…well, love these.” He said through slightly gritted teeth. There was no way to back out of their agreement now without disappointing both the girl and himself, despite his nerves he knew his past confident self would be so disappointed if he were to pass on this small concert. Jaskier pulled out a stall from under the table which had too many knife marks to count, he shuddered thinking about the form of danger he could be in such a place. Perhaps that’s why he was attracted to the Witcher, he subconsciously wanted a bodyguard. He noted the small size of the crowd and was somewhat relieved, he was rusty. That’s why, he convinced himself, his heart felt like it was jumping out of his chest, he didn’t want to even consider that it was because he was about to share a deep intimate secret to a crowd of strangers. He took a deep breath and began to play one note after the other.

“The fairer sex they often call it,  
But her loves as unfair as a crook... “

he felt himself fall into the melody, as he welled with emotion. Yet he kept his distant demeanour, nobody wanted to feel sorry for a bard, nobody wanted their entertainment ruined by a shred of real human emotion. He kept playing each note, each chord as if his life and career depended on it. Some deep part of him knowing that he couldn’t heal without finishing this song. 

“….The story is this she’ll destroy with her sweet kiss. ” 

He strummed the last chord and breathed deeply catching his breath. He allowed his chest to rise and fall his eyes pressed shut to give himself a moment of solitude to allow his emotions to settle. When he opened them, he saw an applauding standing crowd in front of him, they were actually cheering to his surprise. One of the burley dwarves from the day previous tossed a coin to him in payment for his ditty. Jaskier gave a small sincere smile as thanks although he wasn’t quite sure bringing back certain thoughts were worth it. After not being able to resist a bow he returned to his lone table at the back of the pub. He placed his lute back into his case, left a coin for the barmaid and rose to leave. But before he could make his escape the small girl returned a wider grin than he had seen before. 

“My favourite so far.” she whistled through the gap between her front teeth, staring at him with a twinkle in her eye and an innocent sense of wonder. He nodded in response not really knowing how to comment any further but somewhat content with her feeling towards it. “can I ask you a question about it?” no was a simple answer to give and what he wanted to say but unlike many of his friends he was not devoid of emotion and would not be rude to a child… well at least one that didn’t deserve it. 

“err of course.” He tapped a rhythm on the table perhaps as a sign of impatience or a subconscious inner working of the mind mapping out the next melody he should produce. The girls face softened slightly as she moved closer as if she wanted to keep it a secret. He began to dread what she would ask. 

Whispering as if she was in a school yard, she asked “Who is this lost love of yours?” Jaskier chocked on air, his eyes growing large as he tilted his head slightly with irritation. He started to huff and stutter, repeating gibberish syllables trying to find an answer for this obviously far too attentive child. He cracked his neck with a significant amount of uncomfortableness and tried to form a clever answer. 

“the song is simply about a man falling in love with a woman, no lost love there.” He tried to say nonchalantly but squeaked his answer instead. 

“But there are three characters in the song is there not?” Jaskier paused for a moment and went over the lyrics in his head carefully. Pulling a series on confused expressions whilst deep in thought. “there was her, the woman with the kiss, the you, the person that fell for her, and the I which I can only assume is you, the bard.” Oh, shit she was right. Maybe he had been too sleep deprived to notice or maybe something compelled his hand not to alter the lyrics, to truly speak his mind. But whatever was the case he couldn’t let it slip that he was in well… in something with Geralt. In many communities a man finding loving company from another man wasn’t too uncommon. At least that was the case in Toussaint, however he wasn’t certain that some other traditionalist types would accept him.

And besides Geralt was well… a mutant, to him, of course, he was so much more than that label and the stigma that resided around it. But that was all some saw him as, Geralt already faced so much unjustified hatred he didn’t need the added reactions of those who would think it immoral for a human to fall in love with a Witcher. Jaskier could take it but Geralt’s reputation didn’t need it. These people were so full of doubt and hatred, fear and prejudice that they would not listen to a word Jaskier would have to say against them, they would not listen that his feelings for Geralt had formed freely and that Geralt had not manipulated him with magic or some other bullshit. They would find any reason to justify their prejudices further even if it was a complete lie. He didn’t want to hurt Geralt in anyway, even if Geralt were just to find out about his silly little crush it might ruin their friendship forever. So of course, he told a bare faced lie. 

“Oh, you see the you represents my inner self telling me to get out of the relationship as quick as possible. Like when your brain says you shouldn’t eat that poisonous berry Jaskier because you will obviously be poisoned and die but there is another side of my brain saying I deserve that berry, that berry looks good and beautiful and delicious thus I will eat that berry meanwhile that other half of my brain is saying you asshole Jaskier don’t do it…” he realised he was rambling and quite frankly scaring the child a little with the inner working of his brain. She was smiling still and nodding but something had shifted making her slightly less comfortable around him. Maybe she could tell he was lying to her, maybe she knew that he was singing about the white wolf, a sense of mental panic washed over him. But he had to calm himself quickly to look less suspicious. 

“Oh ok.” She hummed politely. “I thought it might be about the Witcher, after all you no longer write ballads singing his praises.” Fuck. He thought fast. 

“That would make for an interesting narrative but alas it wouldn’t be true.” She simply smiled in response, Jaskier was certain he hadn’t convinced her. But there was little more he could say or do without blatantly expressing his feelings for Geralt. He shifted his lute case onto his shoulder, gave the warmest smile he could possibly give to the girl and for some reason decided to pat her on the head as a goodbye. As if she were some form of animal, god damn he was an idiot. He stalked out the tavern as the girl waved a fond goodbye. 

The skies were dark, and he could see ash and smoke upon the horizon. Fear and worry began to consume him once again. He breathed in deeply feeling the cold crisp air infect his being and clear his mind. As he stared into the distance, he was reminded of how he asked Geralt to leave to the coast with him. At the time he didn’t quite know why he asked, he was sure it was just so he could protect his friend from any more pain. Part of him wanted to protect him more than anything, Jaskier knew how many times Geralt had saved him over the past years whether it was saving him from physical danger or loneliness. He had never really returned the favour because Geralt had never wanted anything from him. But in that moment Jaskier knew he could do something, bring forward his own sense of heroism and repay a friend by taking Geralt away from the situation. Simultaneously proving to him that he was so much more than just the annoying bard. 

But that was only partially the reason Jaskier had suggested it, the other part of him unbeknownst to him at the time wanted a life with Geralt, wanted to live in some sense of normality for once. Have fun in each other’s company and not live off the adrenalin of the next adventure. Some part of him imagined a mundane life together, parties and pubs, a life of luxury combined with living within nature. Stories around a campfire, soft smiles and good food, learning about each other and Geralt finally opening up and trusting him. It would have avoided all this heartache if Geralt had left in that moment with him, they would’ve been together and that was all that mattered. But Jaskier knew it would never have worked, to try and tame a Witcher for even a moment, he would eventually have left him heartbroken all the same. After all he was rather unbearable and irritating, he had been told once that his maturity didn’t surpass that of a 10-year-old. And besides it was for the greater good, his feelings did not matter weighed against all the lives Geralt had saved since breaking his heart and destroying them. 

These past hours of revelations had left him wearier than he’d ever been before, it had left him feeling hot and panicked despite the soft winter chill that spread across the air. An ever-growing pain within his stomach worsened as he looked toward Cintra, knowing that Geralt was in the midst of it all, in danger. He wanted Geralt to be safe, he needed him to be safe. He could feel the tears beginning to form once again, the potentiality that Geralt would be lost and not only lost but will die still hating him for his general personality destroyed him so. Jaskier didn’t think he could survive that. He cared so much for that cold, disgruntled man and he wanted nothing more than for him to be safe. He knew there was a warm side to him that he didn’t want to show but it was there otherwise Jaskier wouldn’t have fell so quickly for him. It wasn’t simply just the mystery that intrigued him most but the wanting for Geralt to reveal that softer side. The one he had seen on several occasions but only for flickers of moments. He wanted Geralt by his side to chastise him and barrette him, he wanted to hear his gruff voice and his rude remarks. He wanted him to be safe. 

It’s like his whole soul, his whole being had weakened when Geralt told him to leave and nothing had been able to strengthen him since. He was a broken man barely a bard. But at least now he knew why he was so broken and why he couldn’t sleep, why his heartaches so much, he had lost the love of his life, his muse. The muse that broke his heart into a million shards without an ounce of remorse for what he had done. The muse he would lose to lust, war and anguish. The muse that fate had deemed would never love him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos left for the first chapter. I would really love to write more for this relationship and have a few ideas in my head, I just need to pray to the essay gods to be kind to me this term. 
> 
> As always Kudos and Comments make my day so any of either would be greatly appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> 1 Kudos for every time I had to change Dandelion to Jaskier because I wasn't paying attention whilst writing. 
> 
> also comments are greatly appreciated.


End file.
